What We Did
Mosey to the base of Blue Ridge and gather for instructions on the quadruple triple nickel (originally a triple triple, but these guys were too darn fast)
The Hills (complete entire triple nickel on one hill before moving to the next)
Pledge of Allegiance and mosey home
What We Did Not Do
I love Horsey. I know it well enough to not go too often (probably not often enough), but I still love it. Not many places a Q can give 30 seconds of instructions, telling you to do a god awful, monotonous thing over and over again for an hour, and have it actually be done the whole time (excluding the infamous Bratwurst fiasco of 2017*).
As an F3 guy, my M and 2.0s are, to their great delight, treated to an abundance of F3 talk throughout the week. They’ve heard about the mysterious Horsey and expressed opinions other than “love” for it when I mentioned on Sunday night that I was Qing.
Tenleigh (aka Savannah Smile), age 6, isn’t buying it: “It doesn’t sound like a real place. I think you are just joking again but I hope you don’t get scared by the panty man.” Coincidentally, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe in Santa either and is just keeping her mouth shut to keep her present count up. #smartLittleCookie
Taelyn (aka Pele, formerly Swordfish), age 10, will believe in Santa and unicorns until she’s in college just because she wants to. Not looking forward to her dating years when I have to remind her that even Prince Charming thought with his weinke when he was a teenager. She’s in a Shel Silverstein phase and thought this place worthy of a poem she brought me later and made me promise to share:
The morning is dark
Chester’s cigarette makes a spark
He’s in his underwear
As if he doesn’t care
We run away and try not to stare
The horsey hills are really steep
Why didn’t I stay home and sleep?
I see green lights! Up ahead!
I feel like I am almost dead
We say the pledge under the stars
Then we head to our cars
Wow, that was a hard climb
Oh well, I’ll see you next time
And Jocelyn, age undisclosed, called it like it is and said as only a loving wife can: “You are an idiot. I seriously don’t understand why any of you would want to do that.”
Fair enough, nail on the head. It’s dumb, we all know it. It hurts. We hurt. It’s a dark little hole of suck we (some more often than others) knowingly climb inside on Monday morning. I could ramble on about how giving everything you got up towards the yucca and then realizing you had to dig for more as you turn right to head up the cul-de-sac is preparing us for when the real sh*t hits the fan. But, if you’re coming to Horsey, you’ve been around F3 long enough to have heard (and hopefully know) all of that. For me, I mostly just have a good time getting out there with a bunch of like-minded idiots to hurt for a while. And, feeling like a badass when I have to stumble down the stairs for the next 48 hours. In the end, it’s better to be a guy who has come to Horsey at least once, than to be a guy who hasn’t.
Too many faces to name names. You all kicked as$ and I didn’t see one man quit. Thanks to Spooky Jon for letting me run the show for a day, and thanks to all of you for coming out and climbing in the hole with me this morning.
* For the record, YHC was one of the few who stuck with Brat and actually enjoyed the pain of that workout quite a bit. Albeit, I had a headlamp and did not pull a Tweetsie, so I may be biased.
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